


Presentation

by akapolarbear



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: (for clarification it's a monster AU), (it's not that bad i promise), Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Byakuya's not having a great time, Experimental Style, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves, doesn't really have any kind of fluff til the end, happy birthday Byakuya enjoy the suffering, kind of? maybe, this is a weird one and kind of hard to tag my dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 12:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akapolarbear/pseuds/akapolarbear
Summary: Being a Togami is a constant public performance, a balancing act, a series of spinning plates that demanded perfection and could not be afforded one singular mistake.Byakuya does not falter.





	Presentation

**Author's Note:**

> me: *tricks y'all into thinking i'm purely a fluff romance writer so i can win you over only to dump my monster AU where everyone is at least a little bit unhappy on you*
> 
> ha! i tricked you all, take that!
> 
> so i dunno if i'm gonna do more of this AU in future, but if interest is high enough, i don't mind, i have plenty of ideas for it, though not all of them are Naegami. i dunno, we'll see! but, like i said before, Incompatible is still in the works, i swear, i promise, i haven't forgotten about it!

Being a Togami is a constant public performance, a balancing act, a series of spinning plates that demanded perfection and could not be afforded one singular mistake.  
  
From the moment a child ( _they are children, not pups_ ) is placed under the care of the current family head, their training begins immediately. The rules take effect instantaneously and anyone who cannot comply, anyone who falters in their performance, receives swift punishment.  
  
Byakuya does not falter.

* * *

The first rule, the golden rule, the rule that all others fall under, the rule that their entire family has staked their claim on, the  _only rule that matters_  is simple, concise, and to the point.

"Do not embarrass us."  
  
It is the first thing the head of the family ever says to their children, the very first words mother or father ever address their sons and daughters with, and they will continue to be said throughout their children's training. From the moment the child first hears those words, it becomes their goal to hear them forever, for the rest of their life. As long as those words are spoken to them, they are still "us."   
  
As long as those words are spoken to them, they are still a Togami.  
  
Those four words hold weight. Four simple words that mean so, so much. "Do not embarrass us. Do not cause an incident. Do not ruin years and years of tradition and standing. You are our future. You are our  _everything_. Do not disappoint us."  
  
Byakuya does not disappoint.

* * *

He has an interview today. Word of the youngest recorded heir to the Togami family fortune always seems to be a popular news subject, even years after being officially named inheritor.

He isn't stupid. He's well aware of why. They aren't impressed with his success, they're waiting to see him slip. He's been aware of their whispers since the day he was chosen as the next in line to lead.  
  
_He's young, is he trained? He's only a pup, he won't be able to handle this. It's only a matter of time before he snaps and goes feral, are they sure they want to trust everything to an adolescent?_  
  
These rumors have always existed for the Togami family - no one wants to trust a pack of wild  _dogs_  with any kind of wealth or power, after all - but they've only multiplied following his rise to the throne. All wolves are hot-blooded at the core, but at least the adults can be domesticated, or so the rumors go.  
  
The press only turn their cameras to him in hopes of catching him break - what a scandal that would be! The Togami family ruined, all thanks to one ill-trained, adolescent wolf losing control on a Sunday talk show! Just imagine!  
  
They've been waiting for the Togami family to ruin themselves for years ( _wolves shouldn't hold power, animals shouldn't have wealth_ ) and they all see him as their big break, the scoop of a lifetime waiting to happen. He'd say he hates to disappoint, but really - he's a Togami. He was raised with the golden rule hammered into his skull, seared into his flesh, ingrained into his being.  
  
He will not embarrass them.  
  
The rule of public appearances that has been passed down through generations is one of the first that Togami children are trained in: "Do not smile."  
  
A Togami's face must remain neutral while in the public eye - gaze attentive, brow uncreased, cordial, amiable, but never friendly enough for a smile. It is far too easy for a smile to become a grin and any bearing of fangs can far too easily be misinterpreted. No one wants to be cornered by a grinning wolf.  
  
Togami children are trained out of smiling from a young age. They aren't given reason to smile until eventually, the instinct to smile leaves them all together. Even to this day, he can't place the last time he found himself purposefully smiling at anything.  
  
( _"You don't smile much, do you?" Makoto had once asked during their free period, and his hair instinctively bristled at the sound of his voice, his skin tingling in a way he detested, yet longed for._  
  
_No. He is a Togami. He does not falter._  
  
_"Neither do you," he had replied, every word spoken carefully, pronounced clearly with perfect enunciation, lest one slip out between bared canines as a growl. Togamis do not growl, he is not an animal._  
  
_That was all it had taken to offset Makoto - just like that, the pale green glow of uncertainty, of uneasiness flashed in his eyes, if only for a moment. "I...smile plenty."_  
  
_"Not nearly as much as you think you do." He made sure that was the end of their conversation, brushing past before Makoto could respond, before the gears in his mind could turn fast enough to piece together the implication of what had just been said, before it would occur to him that Byakuya had just admitted to keeping track of every one of his stupid, gap-toothed smiles._ )  
  
He arrives on set early, for the sake of not giving the impression of someone who doesn't care. He doesn't, but he isn't about to broadcast that fact to the press for them to broadcast that fact to the world. No, he is a Togami and he will not embarrass them.  
  
He greets the staff all the same - producers, cameramen, stage managers, all are met with a polite and amiable nod of acknowledgment. When they speak, he watches with rapt attentiveness. Not once in the presence of another does his brow crease with displeasure. When the cameras start rolling and the host greets him, he responds and does so with complete neutrality, as per his training.  
  
Byakuya does not smile.

* * *

On occasions in which his father cannot attend, he is invited to parties to appear in his father's stead. For decades now, it has been an unspoken family rule that when a large, black-tie event is being held, a Togami must appear. They must make connections. They must mingle.   
  
They must show that they are behaved, that they are civilized, that they are not  _animals_.  
  
And no matter how many of these events he has attended, prior to every one, he receives training. A simple precaution, he knows, but tedious nonetheless. He's seated in his father's office mere hours before the event is set to begin ( _training must be fresh in his mind, mistakes cannot be afforded_ ) and as his father recites every rule he must follow and every mannerism he must adopt, he repeats them back.   
  
Basic call and response, an effective training method that also proves he's listening.  
  
Upon entering the room, he must keep his head held high with his chin raised, no slouching. At no point during the event is this allowed to change - wolves only slouch when they want to make themselves small, and they only want to make themselves small when stalking their prey. Yet Togamis are not  _animals_ , and so they have no prey, and so they don't slouch.  
  
Prior to entering a conversation, he must first make his presence known. He is never permitted to approach someone from behind or from their peripheral vision. No one ever wishes to be startled by a wolf. These are potential business partners, potential connections, potential  _allies_  in a world that already hates them - scaring them, accidentally or otherwise, is expressly forbidden.  
  
When speaking to someone, he must take proper care to keep his muscles relaxed, shoulders untensed. When shaking one's hand, he must present his hand slack and then never squeeze first, only ever responding with as much force as offered. Any more than that is a perceived threat, a sign of aggression, a display of hostility - a fatal error.   
  
"And for the love of  _God_ ," his father booms, every word spoken with careful and clear pronunciation because as they both know, Togamis do not snarl, "do not do  _that!_ "  
  
He freezes, goes completely still at the sudden interruption to his otherwise routine training - and in the process, he takes note of the way his fingers have stopped drumming again his bouncing knee.  
  
...Ah. He...hadn't even noticed.  
  
It's not an issue he's never received training on in the past. Quite the contrary, in fact. Rather, it's an issue that always seems to sneak up on him, unwanted and unannounced. When he's aware, he can stop himself, but more often than not, he isn't. For as long as he can recall, fidgetting has been an unfortunate habit of his.  
  
( _He and Makoto had once been assigned a science project together and during their research, Makoto had caught him. It hadn't even been brought to his attention until he had happened to look up and seen Makoto looking nowhere near their biology textbook, not even pretending to be focused. He would've snapped, had he then not noticed what Makoto's attention had been focused on.  
  
His hand. His fingers, rhythmically tapping at the spine of his book.  
  
He had been doing it again.  
  
Just like that, his brain suddenly had remembered his training. "Sorry," he had said, hand dropping to his pocket so no one would be able to see the way his muscles tightened, his fist clenched, his nails - nails, not claws - his nails dug into the tender flesh of his palm. He had taken care not to sound sheepish, not to let his embarrassment show. While Togamis are not allowed to display signs of aggression, they also cannot show any weakness.  
  
It is, as always, a balancing act. One he has mastered.  
  
"Oh!" Makoto had replied, his brain snapping to attention, back to the moment of the present. "Oh, no, no, you're fine, you don't have to stop; it wasn't like...bothering me or anything. Actually..." Makoto had then interrupted himself with a bout of nervous laughter - he isn't a Togami; he was allowed that luxury. "I was kinda thinking it was...I dunno, cute? Just cuz, like - I guess we all have our quirks, you know?"  
  
He hadn't dignified that with a response. He couldn't. He simply narrowed his eyes on the words written on the page, hoping his brain would get the message to focus again on the task at hand instead of the way his stomach had gone fluttery. Makoto had thankfully taken the silence as the cue to get back to work, and eventually his brain had followed suit. Eventually, they had fallen back to their comfortable silence. Eventually, his hand had come back out of his pocket to softly drum at the tabletop.  
  
Makoto didn't speak of it again, didn't once show signs of annoyance, didn't ask him to stop.  
_  
_Because it...was cute?_ )  
  
It was awful. Is awful, will always be awful. A bad habit he needs to learn to control. It's worse than a sign of aggression; it's a sign of instability. No one will want to do any means of business with a twitching dog. An angry beast can be pacified, subdued, but a rabid one? There's no option other than sedation.  
  
It has to  _stop_.  
  
That night, he enters the room with his chin raised and head held high. He does not slouch. When entering a conversation, he approaches from the front, always. He does not startle anyone. Every handshake is initiated with a hand offered slack and a squeeze offered second. He does not threaten anyone. And between business discussions and rounds of light conversation, he stands to the side, with his hands firmly in his pockets, fists clenched so tight, it starts to hurt.  
  
Byakuya does not fidget.

* * *

At least one night every month, his life becomes a living hell. The midpoint of the lunar cycle is the trigger; it calls to him, whispering in his ears, screeching at him from within his skull,  _howling_  at him so loud he feels it in his chest like his heart's about to explode-  
  
_It hurts._  His muscles ache like they're trying to tear themselves apart, his skin itches and crawls, and his head is  _so damn loud_ -  
  
He wants to leave. Leave where? He doesn't  _know_. He just wants  _out_ -  
  
No.  
  
It's the same every month. The same temptation, the same desire tugging at his gut, at his mind. It would be so  _easy_ , to just let go, to let it happen, to  _free_  himself and run wild - but he is not wild. He is not an animal. He has restraint. He absolutely does not -  _will not_  run wild. He is a Togami. He is in control of himself.  
  
Wolves aren't meant to resist the moon's song - that cacophony that echoes in his head every month is meant to be his birthright, his blood. But no, his birthright is the company he was born to lead, his blood is the Togami name to which he's devoted his entire existence to. He can resist -  _will_  resist, in spite of every nerve screaming at him to _just let go.  
  
_But he will not break. He takes the moon's song in stride and spits on it.  
  
He doesn't get any sleep during his monthly mental breakdown; never does, it's too dangerous to try. To sleep would mean to relax, and to relax is to welcome the temptation in. Were he to shut off his brain, who knows what animalistic instinct would accomplish in its absence. No, it's a risk he cannot afford to take. Sleep is a sacrificial lamb he must slaughter.  
  
He can't recall what happens those nights - for as much as he exercises his restraint, his memory still blurs from the haze of adrenaline, of pent up energy he cannot use. All he is truly aware of when his mind comes back into focus the next morning is the pounding ache behind his eyes, the soreness of his muscles as they are finally allowed to loosen, the way his head swims as the forced insomnia catches up to him all at once.  
  
Yet, he's still in his room. The door is still locked. Everything is just as he left it the night before.  
  
He hasn't done anything unfortunate. Sleep's sacrifice was not made in vain.  
  
( _Makoto has started noticing the day after, the exhaustion, the droop of his shoulders, the way the lack of sleep clouds his eyes. He can't be sure if Makoto has figured out the cause - he's observant enough for details, but is often slow to piece them together - but if he has, he's said nothing on the matter.  
  
No, the most Makoto's offered so far is "comfort" - cheap, worthless concern that he shouldn't be wasting time listening to.  
  
"Hey...are you alright?" There it had been again, more pathetic, unnecessary worry as Makoto had waved a hand in front of his face. Though halfhearted and glazed over, his glare was enough to cause the hand to freeze mid-wave before hastily being removed. "S-sorry, I just mean...you don't look so great."  
  
He had been in no mood to lie, as the facts of the matter were he was not "alright" and anyone with functioning eyes would be able to see as much. Why Makoto had even bothered to ask such a question when the answer was sitting plainly in front of his face had been beyond him. Instead of wasting breath on stating the obvious, he had answered curtly, "Go away."  
  
Makoto had flinched, but didn't comply. Rather instead, he lingered, gnawing at his lip - a poor habit of his, not that Byakuya had noticed, though he does recognize it's a good thing Makoto has long since gotten his fangs removed - and then casting a glance over his shoulder. "...You know, the - the teacher isn't here yet," Makoto had finally said with a waver in his voice and the slightest hint of the telltale glow of nervousness to his eyes.  
  
"Did you think that I've suddenly gone blind? I can see that," he had spat in response.  
  
Suddenly Makoto had leaned in close - too close, and he felt his throat tighten. "If you want to go, I can cover for you." Makoto's voice had dropped to a hushed whisper, eyes locked directly onto his and so close he could feel the slightest hint of warm breath. "It's alright, you can go back to your room, nap, and just...relax a little bit, y'know?"  
  
The temptation had been there, far sweeter than the moon's song could ever hope to be. The gentle concern of Makoto's voice and the soft pleading in those eyes - there was a tug in the back of his mind, a whisper to just let go, and for once in his life, he wanted to listen. He wanted to give in, to leave his restraint.  
  
He wanted to let go.  
_  
_But..._  
  
_"Your offer is both unnecessary and unwanted. Now, I believe I told you to go away." To slink off back to his room, to nap as was asked of him, to "relax" would be to buckle under the weight of his burden, to admit weakness for all to see._  
  
_Never. He is a Togami, and Togamis do not show weakness._ )  
  
The time for his monthly ritual approaches once again, and he prepares. Immediately after classes, he returns to his room and the door is locked. He won't be leaving again until morning, which means he'll be absent for dinner, but that, much like sleep, is an unfortunate but necessary sacrifice.  
  
He changes from his uniform, folding it neatly to the side, before instead dressing into his pajamas, light and loose around his frame. With the moon's song comes an intense discomfort in his own skin. Anything too tight, too constricting runs the risk of getting ripped or damaged in his temporary mania, and though clothes can be replaced, he would much rather not have to.  
  
Once all other preparations are complete, he shuts off his phone and turns off his lights. Tonight will leave him in a state of hypersensitivity; anything that could irritate or upset him any further than he already will be must be taken care of now, for the sake of being safe. The last thing he wants is to come back to himself in the morning, only to find his phone shattered.  
  
After that, he lays in bed. He waits. It, as always, starts slowly, a slow creeping hum that works its way into his brain before he's fully aware. It grows in volume, louder and louder, and his muscles clench, his jaw tightens, his head pounds. As always, the temptation returns, calling out to him, loud, insistent, and harsh. And as always, he resists.  
  
Byakuya does not relax.

* * *

Being a Togami is a constant public performance, a balancing act, a series of spinning plates that demanded perfection and could not be afforded one singular mistake. He had taken to the role he was given quickly, adapted to it, made it his everything, and then perfected his performance. He had  _mastered_  it.  
  
He... _thought_  he had mastered it.  
  
Yet, for all of his training, for all of the rules that had been ingrained into him, none of it had taken into account one otherwise seemingly insignificant interference.   
  
Makoto Naegi should be a no one, yet another inconsequential existence to enter and leave his life without leaving any lasting effect, a commoner that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things and nothing in the face of a Togami. That is how it should have gone. That is how he thought it would've gone.  
  
But when Makoto speaks, he finds himself listening. When Makoto laughs, he drinks in the sound, indulging himself in the fleeting moment of happiness that isn't his own and isn't meant to be. When Makoto enters the room, his attention snaps onto him like he's the most important thing in his life and would be, if Makoto would ever allow it. When Makoto exists, he finds himself...wanting, a childish picturesque want where no one else matters, where it's only the two of them.  
  
When Makoto kisses him for the very first time, he never wants it to end.  
  
From that moment on...his life changes.  
  
On nights when the moon's song calls to him with its temptations, Makoto is there, carding a hand through his hair, with gentle soft-spoken words cutting through the noise that threatens to break him. Byakuya relaxes.  
  
While alone with Makoto, whether it be studying or eating or just  _being_ and enjoying each other's presence, no thoughts of rules or training or perfection plague him and he allows his mind to wander. Byakuya fidgets.  
  
When Makoto speaks to him and grants his full undivided attention, he feels elation like he's not sure he's ever felt before. Byakuya smiles.  
  
The moment he makes Makoto his boyfriend, he's aware that others won't approve and yet he doesn't seem to care. Byakuya disappoints.  
  
Byakuya...falters.

**Author's Note:**

> if any of y'all want clarification or have questions on the worldbuilding or ideas behind this AU, please by all means ask because i have put waaaaaaayyyy too much thought into it. i have a lot of feelings about monsters, you guys


End file.
